


Canada Victorious

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M, SGA Saturday Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canada will reign supreme, one way or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canada Victorious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> From hoktauri's prompt, **flag** :
> 
> _As military men, you can bet that John Sheppard, Aiden Ford, and Evan Lorne know how to fold the American flag. But that's not the only way to read this prompt._
> 
> _It can be the flag that represents an Expedition member's home country, the red flag that signals danger on an off-world mission, or the gesture used to flag down a teammate. Maybe it's the flag Sheppard puts on a requisition form to indicate its destination or urgency. Maybe Kavanagh really enjoys the music of Black Flag. Maybe it's the white flag of surrender when Todd's hive is overtaken by the folks of Atlantis. (There are a lot of color definitions here...)_
> 
> _Hell, maybe it's the Jolly Roger (Johnny Roger?) being flown from the mast of a ship in a Pirate AU.  
> _
> 
> I chose a slightly different variant... :D

  


* * *

  


"Rodney, it's time to pack it in," Sheppard said, or at least Rodney assumed it was Sheppard. It could be a cleverly disguised impostor for all Rodney could see. He shook his head and blinked twice, but it did nothing to clear up the Vaseline-like smudge that seemed to be coating everything before his eyes.

"I will not," Rodney said. "You can't make me. Canada will be victorious—"

"What, all three of you on base?" John sounded amused, which was completely unfair. He should be quaking in his stupid combat boots. "You're working under a little bit of a disadvantage here, you have to admit—"

"I admit nothing, and you can take your-your smugly voice and your smudgy face—"

"My what?" The John-face wavered into a smirk.

"—and your superior-strength-in-numbers attitude and just high-tail it on out of here, mister. I know what you're up to. You're trying to undermine the finest Canada has to offer."

Rodney heard approaching footsteps and finally managed to, oh—that's why everything was all foggy, his cheeks were smashed up against his sleeve. It all made perfect sense when John lifted his head from where it was resting atop his crossed arms.

"Buddy, you are definitely Canada's finest. But I hate to break it to you—even your little maple leaf is looking kinda droopy right about now." John flicked Rodney's patch with one finger. "I think it's all the drool—"

Rodney yanked his head out of John's warm, comfortable—oh, very comfortable, why, why—hands and tried to straighten his spine. His neck gave that ominous flash that presaged a red-hot shooting pain—there it went, right on schedule—and Rodney froze, suddenly quite awake. Nothing like a nice shot of adrenaline.

"Get this straight, Colonel Mustard. Canada will win the Atlantis International Mental Olympics, no matter what tricks you and-and your fellow countrywoman Dr. Weir get up to."

John's eyebrows shot up. "You can't seriously be saying Dr. Weir is biased?"

Rodney jutted his chin, but John was already laughing.

"Rodney, we're talking about Dr. Weir, here, the woman who brokered peace talks in Somalia between the rebels and the sitting government, the gal who convinced the Genii to give up a couple of nuclear bombs in exchange for nothing."

"So?"

"So, you really think she needs to cheat to win one crappy week's worth of extra dessert in the mess?"

Rodney blinked. "But then there's you! You with the squirrely hair and the nefarious plans!"

"Yup, that's me, nefarious." Sheppard reached around him and hauled Rodney bodily off the stool. Rodney would have resisted—in fact, made a supreme effort to, except all of his muscles had turned to jellyfish somehow, and this had nothing whatsoever to do with the sensation of John's muscular chest and side hoisting him up and his strong arm wrapped around Rodney's shoulders, or the particular way John's body chemistry morphed the nasty scent of Aqua Velva into something decidedly earthy and appealing.

Something Rodney wanted to bury his nose in, right there in the side of John's neck. And maybe nuzzle a little. No harm in that.

"Huh," John said, something in his voice Rodney refused to identify, because John had maneuvered him somehow across the lab and onto the cot along the back wall, and suddenly, finally, Rodney was horizontal.

Oh, bliss.

"Canada...victorious..." Rodney rolled his head away from the pillow long enough to add, "tell Chuck the...final clue...mmmphzzz."

"Sure will, buddy."

:::

When Rodney awoke it was to discover a) fourteen hours had passed; b) Chuck had failed him, utterly failed him the weaselly bastard; and c) Rodney was right: numbers weren't everything.

Ronon had won the Atlantis's first International Mental Olympics, being duly motivated to represent Sateda, Rodney supposed, by being tied for fewest representative numbers with Dr. Lefebvre of Monaco.

Also, there was the extra dessert to consider.

They all had to stand for the Satedan Anthem, and the cook was relieved he would only have to provide all the dessert Ronon could want for a week, as opposed to double desserts for the entire American contingent on base. Rodney thought perhaps the cook would learn to regret his words.

"So," John said after Rodney had showered off four days' worth of intense intellectual effort, "still think the fix was in?"

Rodney rubbed the towel over his head and dropped it over his chair. He was cozy in his current favorite T-shirt that read, 'I'm an Evil Genius in a World of Lackeys', had already drunk two cups of coffee, and felt ready to take on the world, even if that included Colonel Smirks A Lot.

"Perhaps not. But I still maintain if you hadn't dragged me off to bed Canada would have reigned victorious," Rodney said.

A strange look passed over John's face. "Sure, sure, buddy." He raked his fingers over his hair, making it even more ridiculous. "About that..."

Rodney waved a hand. "No need to apologize."

"Apologize? What for?"

"For interrupting me during my final sprint toward the finish!"

Sheppard burst into the embarrassing noise he called laughter. Rodney hrmphed.

"Seriously, though," John said when he'd stopped with the braying, "was it the sleep deprivation talking, or did you mean, you know?" He went back to rubbing the back of his neck.

A sudden sinking sensation iced the bottom of Rodney's stomach. He remembered there was, possibly, nuzzling? And had he requested that aloud? About the licking?

"Because, I, uh. Don't think there's anything wrong with that. If you wanted to," John added hastily. "Now that you're not hallucinating?"

"You mean you'd be amenable? To, ah—"

"Licking and stuff, yeah—" John's ears turned pink.

"You?"

"Me and you—"

How had John managed to sneak so close, that was what Rodney wanted to know, because somehow he'd backed Rodney against his desk, so Rodney had to clutch John's shirt to stay upright. "Nefarious," Rodney whispered, and John chuckled a little, sounding breathy and turned on.

"You know us evil Americans," he said, and bent his head, his eyes bright, then there might have been kissing and possibly some mutual licking, but if so, Rodney wasn't saying a word.

Nope, not a word.

 

_End._


End file.
